Page 26

Rachel's phone buzzed with Diana's email just as they reached the top of Christopher Bradley’s long, winding driveway. The sun was beginning its descent behind the trees as the afternoon wore on, casting long shadows across the empty road. Rachel wasted no time opening the email and attached file right away, scanning Jennifer Parker's information. She and her husband, CJ, lived in the town of Luray. Forty minutes away. Too far. The distance felt like a physical weight in her stomach.

She remembered similar moments from past cases – the terrifying countdown that started the moment you realized someone was in danger. The way seconds seemed to stretch and compress at the same time. She'd lost people before. It was just part of the job. But now that she’d had some time away, it was easier for her to think otherwise. Maybe loss didn’t have to be part of the job. Not this time, anyway, she thought. Not if she could help it.

As she dialed Jennifer’s number, she noticed that Novak was literally squirming in his seat, anxious to get moving. She pressed the phone to her ear, listening to Jennifer's phone ring through to voicemail. Her stomach tightened, that familiar surge of adrenaline making her fingers tingle.

"Straight to voicemail," she muttered. Then, thinking quickly, she thumbed through her phone, going to the little bit of information they had on Christopher Bradley—most of which had been accumulated at the Wyler County precinct. She inputted his number from their hastily assembled case notes. Nothing there either. Five rings and then an automated, robotic voicemail prompt. The silence on both ends felt deliberate, orchestrated. She could almost picture Bradley somewhere, watching Jennifer's phone buzz, perhaps already…

The image of Sandra Mitchell's body flashed through her mind, the way she'd looked in that pod, and Rachel forced the thought away.

No. Don't go there.

The road in front of them was empty, the pavement a faded black without yellow or white markings of any kind. It forced its way through dense trees that pressed close on both sides. Perfect isolation. The kind of place where screams wouldn't carry.

"Try the husband," Novak suggested, bringing the car to a stop. The headlights illuminated Bradley's front door, dark and uninviting. "If Jennifer isn’t picking up..."

She’d thought the same thing for a moment or two but didn’t know if it was worth alarming him just yet. But honestly, what other choices did they have?

Rachel went back to Jennifer’s information and found the number for her husband, her mind racing ahead to what she'd say, how much to reveal. The phone rang twice before a man's voice answered, casual, relaxed. Normal. The kind of normal that could shatter in an instant. "Hello?"

"Mr. Parker? CJ Parker?”

“Yeah? Who’s asking?” There was nothing confrontational to his voice; there was even a little edge of humor in it.

“Mr. Parker, this is Special Agent Rachel Gift with the FBI. I'm trying to reach Jennifer."

A pause. The background noise of a televised football game filtered through the connection. "Oh. She went out about an hour ago. Having drinks with a friend." His voice carried the distracted tone of someone half-listening, probably still focused on whatever he'd been doing when she called. Rachel felt a stab of sympathy. He had no idea his world was about to change.

"Do you know which friend? Where they were meeting?"

"Who is this again?"

Rachel took a deep breath, remembering that this man had no idea what had been going on these past two days. "Mr. Parker, I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Special Agent Rachel Gift. I need to be clear – your wife may be in danger. Any information you can give us could be crucial."

The background noise of the football game suddenly died. The silence that followed was deafening. "What do you mean, in danger?" His voice sharpened, fear creeping in at the edges. "She just said she was meeting someone from work. I—" He faltered. "God, I didn't even ask where. The game was on, and I just... I just said 'have fun.'"

The guilt in his voice was palpable. Rachel had heard it before, too many times. Survivors looking back at their last normal moment, trying to understand how they missed the signs. She pressed her free hand against her forehead, eyes closed. "Mr. Parker, we're going to do everything we can to find her. I promise you that. But I need to ask you something, and I know it might seem strange." She hesitated, knowing how the next question would land. "Has Jennifer ever attempted suicide?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" His voice rose sharply, anger masking fear. "What's going on? Why would you—"

"Please," Rachel cut in, keeping her voice steady. "I know it's difficult, but it's important." More important than you know, she thought.

The silence stretched for several seconds, thick with unspoken fears. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. "Once. Three years ago. We'd just gotten married, and... we lost a baby. Miscarriage. It hit her hard. Really hard." He cleared his throat. "But that was a long time ago. She got help. She's better now. I thought she was much better, honestly."

Rachel's heart sank. Another connection...and now it was undeniable. Another piece of Bradley's twisted puzzle. For some skewed reason, he was going after people who had attempted suicide. She wondered if he was doing it as a morbid way to mourn the loss of his wife to suicide or if it was something more complicated. Something….darker.

"Mr. Parker—"

"No, you need to tell me what's happening. Right now." The fear in his voice had hardened into anger. "Why are you asking about—"

Rachel's phone buzzed against her ear. She checked the display and saw that it was an incoming call from Detective Wheeler. She glanced at Novak, who was watching her intently, his face illuminated by a stream of sunlight that was breaking through the trees as it began to properly set.

"Mr. Parker, I'm going to have my partner call you right back with more details,” Rachel said. “I have to take an urgent call, but I promise you'll know everything in just a minute."

"Wait—"

"Agent Novak will call you immediately." She switched calls, stepping out of the car into the cool evening air. The temperature had dropped with the sun, and goosebumps rose on her arms. She looked back into the car and saw Novak already dialing to get CJ Parker back on the line.

"Wheeler?” she said into the phone. “What do you have?"

"We found one." Wheeler's voice crackled with excitement. "One of the drones spotted something weird and shiny in the forest, so we routed it back and lowered it down.”

“You’re certain it’s one of the pods?”

“Positive. I’m looking at the imagery right now. It’s sort of tucked away in some trees, but yeah...it’s one of the suicide pods. I'm sending you coordinates now."

Rachel's phone buzzed with the incoming message. She pulled it away from her ear, quickly copying the coordinates into her mapping app. She felt like an automated machine, having spent the past five minutes or so making calls, inputting data, taking other calls, absorbing new information with what seemed like every breath.

With the coordinated now in her phone, she felt her heart skip a beat. “Wheeler, this is only fifteen minutes from where we are right now.”

"Good. Looks like we got lucky. I'll head out that way to meet you in the next few minutes, but you’ll get there well before I will. But I’m on the way."

Rachel was already moving back to the car, gesturing urgently to Novak, who was finishing his call with Parker. The gravel shifted under her feet, reminding her of crime scenes, of evidence markers, of body bags. "We’ll see you there, Detective. And thanks for this. Damn good work."

“Oh, this has been a team effort all around. See you soon.”

Rachel ended the call and slid back into the passenger seat. Novak was looking at her expectantly, his face grim.

"How'd it go with the husband?" she asked.

"About as well as you'd expect." Novak put the car in reverse, the engine rumbling beneath them. "He's scared. Angry. A nervous wreck. Wants to come help look for her."

"You told him no?"

"Strongly. Had to promise to call him every thirty minutes with updates. I told him to call his local PD to ask to have him connected with Wyler County PD for any updates." He glanced at her as they backed down the driveway, trees looming on either side. “How about you? Was that good news?”

“Very. We’ve got a destination. One of the drones found a pod.”

"That is good news. Where are we headed?"

Rachel held up her phone, the map glowing in the gathering dusk. "Fifteen minutes northeast. Looks like it’s way off the beaten path like the others.”

Novak wasted no time, pulling out of the driveway so quickly that he spit up gravel as he made his way out onto the paved road. As he drove, Rachel ran a quick social media search for Jennifer Parker. Her Instagram account popped up first. She was young…maybe twenty-five. Pretty. The kind of genuine smile that made others want to trust you.

She then went back to her map, not wanting to miss a turn. She studied the map, zooming in. The area was remote, heavily wooded. Perfect for hiding things – or people. And as the darkness continues to gather, the daylight slowly giving up the fight, that thickness of forest on her phone screens seemed more ominous than it had even just five minutes ago.

The car accelerated through the dusk, wheels humming against asphalt with his partially wrecked back-end creating a strange rattling noise. Rachel thought about Jennifer Parker, about her husband watching football, about how quickly ordinary evenings could turn into nightmares. She thought about Christopher Bradley, waiting somewhere ahead of them, playing out his twisted game while dealing with his own heartbreaking loss.

And she thought about the pods again…most notably about how easily Christopher Bradley had managed to transform them into a dark and dangerous tool.